⚠️TW for SH (self harm)⚠️
Life has never felt very real to me.
Not when I was 5, making mud cakes and catching ladybugs in tik tac containers.
Not when I was 10, listening to forests making sounds that seemed quiet, but somehow deafened me anyway.
Not even when I was 15, cutting open skin, watching the blood dry when I couldn't find any paint.
Not even when I found myself skipping meals until it started to hurt and putting bandaids over bruised knees.
The only time I ever felt real was in the summer breeze.
Closed eyes tilted up to feel the sunshine, a warmth that I could only ever steal.
Making a deal with the dirt, my skin beginning to peel.
Wishing for the millionth time to find a way to finally heal.
My patience growing unbareably thin and aching heart freezing deeper, turning to a cold steel lock, forever closed off from the rest of the world.
The key then lost to a pile of unrecognisable metal.
Bronze and silver all merged together and melted down to craft this dagger, closed in my fists, aimed at my heart.
This key can no longer be used at will, it can not be taken easily, if you wish to bare the cold within me, you must take this dagger from my dying clutch.
I will not die easily.
You cannot kill something that was never real...
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
Non-Fictionas the title suggests, this is legit going to be my diary. and yes, most diaries are supposed to be secret, but I have always been an open book. I like to pretend to be mysterious, but the people around me will all tell you that I am am someone who...
